


HSWC 2014 Bonus Round Three Fills

by sonicSymphony



Series: HSWC 2014 Bonus Round Fills [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, March!Eridan as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, Multi, Potterstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicSymphony/pseuds/sonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A variety of ships in many different situations, all written for the third bonus round of the Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Potterstuck; Eridan/Karkat

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate universes _yes, I am so excited_.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hogwarts AU where they are both sorted into the Slytherin house.

You were two seconds away from being sorted into Hufflepuff.

Fucking _Hufflepuff_.

You are a pureblood from a long line of dark wizards, you are cunning and ambitious and shrewd, and you almost got put in fucking _Hufflepuff_.

A squeak almost bursts from your lips when the Sorting Hat runs the suggestion by you, and you’re quick to correct it. You can almost feel the old hat sigh on your head, but after a moment or two of debating it finally shouts out, “Slytherin!”

Smirking, you slide off the stool and take your rightful place at the Slytherin table. You’re the first one to be sorted, so you sit alone near the end of the table, certain that Fef will join you in a minute. You recognize quite a few faces—particularly Cronus and Fef’s sister—but you aren’t overly friendly with any of them, so you’re perfectly content to sit alone for a little while.

That is, until the Sorting Hat proclaims, “Gryffindor!” after only a few seconds on Feferi’s head.

Your jaw drops. Her family has a Slytherin _legacy_ , just like yours does, and getting placed in the rival house would be a slap in the face to her mother. You knew she had a chance in Gryffindor, but you thought you’d convinced her on the train to stick with you, because she was ambitious as hell and she knew people in this house and she couldn’t just _leave_ _you_ in a pit of snakes—

But that’s exactly what she did.

She keeps trying to catch your eye from across the room, but you purposely avoid her stare. You try to focus on the sorting instead, and a few more kids come to sit at your end of the table, though none slide in right next to you until the very last one.

“Everyone looks so damn cliquey already,” he comments, matching your scowl. “You may be staring at the area above the platform like you’re expecting it to explode if you glare at it hard enough, but at least you’re not turning that gaze on _me_.”

Then you _do_ turn your stare on him, and he just snorts, picking up a goblet of pumpkin juice. “Now you’re just doing that to be an ass.” He takes a few gulps and you feel the scowl begin to melt off your face simply because you’re too bewildered to maintain it. When he puts his goblet back down on the table, he says, “Karkat Vantas.”

Blinking, you question, “What?”

Leaning a bit closer, he says slowly, “ _That’s my name_ , numbnuts. Who’re you?”

Automatically, your shoulders take on a proud set as you declare, “Eridan Ampora.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Was I supposed to recognize that?”

You feel your face begin to heat up. When you blush, you do so to the tips of your ears, and you’ve always hated that. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s just eat.”

At midnight, when you’re both sitting cross-legged on his bed whispering about your likes and your lives, he tells you he’s a mudblood. Somehow, you don’t care. You don’t care as you get shit for being friends with him. You don’t care as your father writes you a sternly-worded letter about befriending the lesser folk. You don’t care when, years later, you kiss him at the top of the astronomy tower with your constellation rising as his sets. Prejudice runs deep within you, but for him, you try.


	2. Donor; Kanaya&Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Humanstuck AU where Kanaya asks Karkat to be her donor so she can bear her own child.

You know something is up when you get to the apartment and Kanaya immediately answers the door, dressed up like she’s about to get lunch at a classy café in Paris instead of drink coffee with her bottom-rung techie best friend. Your eyebrows shoot under your hair, and you can’t help but scoff a little bit. “Kanaya, what’s with the pomp and fanciness? We’re going to drink our coffee in your kitchen and not at a five-star hotel, right?”

She bites her lip, and you wonder what horrible thing she’s about to tell you. “I just felt like dressing nice. Come in.”

After shutting the door behind you, she leads you to the kitchen table, where she has two perfectly prepared lattes—there’s whipped cream and cinnamon and chocolate shavings, the whole nine yards. You go from thinking that she’s going to tell you she and Rose had their first post-marital fight to thinking she’s going to say someone has died, and you wrap your hands around your mug. For some reason, it’s really hard to take a sip, even though you love her sweet drinks. She adds extra sugar, just for you.

Ten minutes of silence later, she hasn’t touched her drink while you’ve drained yours and have proceeded to scoop up whipped cream with your finger to enjoy. Finally, she sighs and speaks, shoulders hunched and tense. “I… I’ve been thinking about how to go about this for a long time, you know.” She gives a nervous laugh, and if she weren’t happily married, you’d think she was about to ask you on a date. “Karkat, you’re one of my favorite people in the world. I love you to death.”

Something dark and horrifying pops into your head, and your eyes blow wide as you reach for her hand. She looks at you, startled. “Kanaya, _please_ tell me you’re not slowly dying of some fucked up incurable disease—”

“What?” she asks, entirely confused. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

Relief flows through you, and you release your grip on her but still leave your hand near hers on the table. “Oh my God, you just started with the whole ‘I love you and I don’t know how to tell you this’ spiel, I just thought that maybe…” You swallow. “Wow, I’m a fucking idiot, sorry.”

“This may seem tame in comparison, now,” she says, giving you a soft smile. “Karkat, darling, I want to have a child.”

 _Oh_. You’re not surprised, really. Kanaya has always wanted to be a mother, and you don’t think there’s anyone else in the world who could take better care of some lucky kid. You say softly, “That’s lovely. I’m happy for you. Have you talked it over with Rose?”

“Extensively,” she replies, moving to take your hand again, “and I… proposed an idea. She’s agreed to it.”

“Go on,” you coax when she pauses.

“I’m going to have it, the first one at least,” she says, holding onto you tighter. “And Karkat, it would mean the world to me if you were the donor.”

You mouth dries up. Out of all the things you were expecting this morning when she called you, sounding terse and worried, _this_ was not one of them. She takes your silence for refusal and loosens her grip on your hand, but you don’t let her pull away. “Okay.”

She blinks at you, bewildered. “What?”

Nodding, you squeeze her hand. “How could I refuse? The combination of our already flawless genes is bound to make some sort of superbaby.”

Kanaya laughs, which was what you were hoping for. There’s still hesitation surrounding her, though, so you want to lighten the atmosphere a bit more. “So when are you gonna put a bun in my oven?” you jibe. When she just blinks bemusedly, you laugh and say, “Kanaya, if I’m going to be your baby mama, you’ve gotta start preparing to deal with me in the hormonal throes of pregnancy—”

“Oh shut up,” she chuckles, the rest of the nervousness leaking from her shoulders. You can’t help but notice the tears in her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“There’s no need to grovel, I get enough of that when I recover files from someone’s fired hard drive.” Then her eyes crinkle at the corners as she _grins_ , radiating happiness, and you feel positively elated alongside her.


	3. Fond of Dirt; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Medieval/fantasy au. Eridan is a prince, Karkat is his servant.

“Piss of your swordfighting instructor again, your Royal Idiocy?”

“That’s incredibly disrespectful,” you sniff indignantly for the hundredth time this month. Technically, you could beat him for the insult every time, but it’s _refreshing_ to have someone to talk to that doesn’t bend over backwards to please you. Speaking makes your head pound harder, and your hand reflexively moves to the welt on your forehead, barely past your hairline. You feel blood, but the wound must be small, since it isn’t bleeding profusely. The day your father gave the Marquise permission to bash you on the head if you were impertinent was one you’d like to erase from history. “And if I’m not progressing properly, then that’s _her_ fault for not being a good teacher.”

“Or maybe you’re just hopeless with a sword,” he says dryly before nodding towards the wash basin. “Go sit on the stool, I’ll fix you up.”

Karkat goes to fetch a pail of water as you lower yourself onto the short wooden stool, careful not to descend too fast; you don’t want to get any dizzier. He comes back soon enough, hands full of supplies. Crouching down in front of you, he goes right to work, wetting a cloth and dabbing at your face with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. The coolness feels nice even though the pressure stings, and he scrapes off the dried blood before dabbing a bit of a sticky, amber substance onto the small cut. “I’ve been told honey helps with healing,” he says.

You almost raise your eyebrows before you realize that would hurt. “Did Captor tell you that?”

He snorts, putting the bottle of honey on a shelf above you and slinging the damp cloth over the rim of the bucket. “You really think I’d let the _beekeeper_ give me medical advice? But if it gets infected, then yes, Sollux did indeed tell me and he should be the one that gets hanged.”

People say you’re not patient, but you would not have lasted this long with Kar if you didn’t know how to exercise restraint _sometimes_. You wait a full two minutes until he thinks to ask, “Is there anything else you needed, my Prince?”

He only added your title because he knows he took too long to ask. The royal term sounds inappropriate on his tongue, like he isn’t used to saying it. For some reason, when he looks up from the floor to meet your gaze, you feel a swell of affection for the boy. He’s been serving you from the moment you had your own chambers, which was a decade ago now.

Only when he says, “Eridan?” do you realize you were staring at him. Blinking, you clear your throat awkwardly and say, “A glass of water would be nice.”

Kar goes to fetch it, and you pull yourself up so you can move to your bed. On your way, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; the knot on your head is on its way to bruising horribly. With a sigh, you wonder how well your father would take to you switching from sword to crossbow.


	4. Boob Woes; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Feferi leads the tragic existence of a troll waiting to grow boobs while Meenah is the neighborhood hot mom and even Feferi's best friend is over aaaall the time trying to drool over her. Right? Feferi is never going to get a boyfriend...

After a miserable day of bra shopping, all you want to do is curl up in your fluffy pink comforter and eat a pint of expensive salted caramel gelato. You can’t _believe_ the bitch at Victoria’s Secret tried to tell you your bra size was 34A. You’ve been a B cup for _months_! To add insult to injury, you come from a line of women with _very_ big boobs, and the entire time you shopped your double-D mother mocked you.

_“You’re never gonna grow into the family legacy, guppy. You’ve gotta get used to being tiny and perky forever. Ooh, Feffy look, I found the training bras!”_

As you sit in the kitchen, waiting for your ice cream to thaw in the microwave, the doorbell rings. You hear your mother answer it, and she makes small talk with the person on the other side until two pairs of footsteps make their way towards you.

“Yo, Ampora’s here,” your mother says, sending you a look over her shoulder as she approaches the back door. She’s clad in only a bikini; you guess she’s going for a swim in your grandiose pool. You can’t help but notice the way Eridan ogles her every movement, and a lump of bitterness settles in your chest when you realize he’ll never look at _you_ like that. You’re too underdeveloped.

“Hi, Fef,” he greets once she’s gone. You don’t respond, hopping off the barstool you were perched on and going to collect your ice cream. As an afterthought, you grab an extra spoon for him, even though he comments, “Wow, you’re really giving me the cold shoulder today.”

He follows you up to your room, and the two of you sit on your bed, the pint of gelato between you. You devour half of it in mere minutes, but before you can cross the line from full to bloated, Eridan takes it away and puts it on your nightstand. “No more avoidance, Fef, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, and tears prick at your eyelids as a direct contradiction of your words. You wipe at them subtly; you’re not going to cry over _boobs_.

“At least tell me _something_ about what’s going on in your head right now,” he urges, leaning forward.

Suddenly, a spear of anger shoots through you, hot and intense. “Why do you think it’s okay to use me?”

Incredulousness warps his expression, and he uses his middle finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You only ever come over here so you can get an eyeful of my mother,” you accuse, mad and snappish. Now that you think about it, that _is_ what he does—almost every time he’s in the same room with her, he makes some sort of comment to you about her being a MILF or what a nice figure she has or how she’s the neighborhood’s hottest mom. It makes you want to scream.

“What makes you think that?” he demands indignantly.

“You can never stop staring at her boobs! I know I don’t have a lot to offer in that department—I’ve really had that rubbed in my face today—but hell, she’s my _mother_! It’s weird and gross!”

His expression closes off, his fins starting to droop. “Is _this_ what you’re upset about? You think I like your mom more than I like you, my _best friend_ , just because she has bigger…” He makes a strange hand gesture instead of saying the word, but you get the idea.

“I don’t _think_ that, I _know_ that.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “She’s prettier than me and has a nicer body than me and with _her_ to compare me to, no one is _ever_ going to want to date me!”

“That’s not true,” Eridan protests immediately. “Fef, come on—”

“Name _one person_ ,” you challenge, crossing your arms over your chest. When he turns violet to the tips of his fins, you sigh, looking away from him and pulling the covers over your head. “See?” you say, voice muffled. “I _told_ you!”

“Me.”

There’s quite a stretch of silence after that. You must’ve heard him wrong, so you pop your head out from under your comforter so you can hear properly. “What?” you ask quietly.

Eridan swallows, hard. Cupping his elbows with something you think is nervousness, he says, “Fef, I… I’ve had a crush on you since we were little kids. It’s _dumb_ that you think no one will ever love you just because you have small boobs. The size—it doesn’t _matter_ , okay? Who _gives_ a flying fuck? I’ve loved you even before—” He cuts himself off, and you see that his entire body is shaking. “God, Fef, I’m such an idiot, just forget all of that.”

“You _like_ me?” you ask quietly, and your word choice makes you feel like you’re eight years old instead of thirteen.

Clenching his jaw, he nods once, avoiding eye contact. With butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, you crawl out of bed gracelessly, tumbling onto the floor. Eridan leans over to offer a hand, clambering out of bed as well, and you take it, allowing him to pull you up. Once you’re on your feet, you don’t let go.

“Did you really mean that?” you ask, because he still hasn’t answered your question. “God, Eridan, if I find out you just said that because you felt bad for me, I’ll—”

“No, Fef, I’m being honest with you, I swear,” he rushes to assure you, squeezing your hand. “Who cares about the difference between an A cup and a D cup, you’re the most gorgeous girl in the entire world.”

“Now you’re just being a sap,” you say, but you can’t fight the grin and breaks out on your face.

“I guess I am,” he says with a chuckle, a small smile curving his lips. He’s really pretty when he isn’t all doom and gloom; you never noticed his dimples before. “Feel any better?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you use the hand you’re still holding to tug him closer. Hugging him feels like the most natural thing you’ve ever done. His chin fits perfectly between your horns, his arms are sold and warm around you, and you think that big boobs can go fuck themselves.


	5. A Feast for Reunions; John/Rose/Jade/Dave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Game of Thrones AU, where each kid is the heir of a major house.

The old Queen is dead, and the Princess ascended to the throne ten minutes ago. Important Lords and Ladies flocked to King’s Landing from all over the Seven Kingdoms—and even a few from the Free Cities made the trip across the Narrow Sea—and you just so happened to be one of them. Though you are not in control of your house yet, you know soon enough your mother’s drinking problem will do her in, and you will have the Iron Islands (with its warships and squid sigil and pride) all to yourself.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen any of your close friends. You’ve been corresponding through letters for years; you have not seen any of them since you were children. Now, as fine heirs in the early stages of adulthood, it’s only proper that you’ll begin the new phase of your life—and the kingdom’s new era of rule—with the people you care the most about.

Since the formalities of the night are over and it’s time to feast and mingle, you begin looking for your old friends. The first of them you see is the eldest Arryn boy. It seems like he’s been trying to get your attention for a while, because when you look at him his face lights up and he waves. His happiness is unbecoming of a future Lord, but his enthusiasm makes a smile pull at the edges of your lips. You almost turn to your mother to tell her where you’re going before you remember that, for the first time, she remained at the Eyrie while you made the journey south.

“Did you have a nice journey, Lady Greyjoy?” John asks as you approach. He wants to hug you, but he’ll have to wait until you’re alone.

“The trip from the Iron Islands was tiring,” you say, folding your hands behind your back, “I can’t wait until the coronation is over so I can sleep until the _next_ queen is crowned. Your travels were nicer than mine, I hope?”

“Yeah, the Eyrie is a lot closer, though there _are_ a lot of mountains to cover. It was really windy as well, sometimes the harsh breeze cut through my travelling cloak.” He shivers dramatically, and something warm grows in your chest at the sight. “Have you seen Jade or Da—oh, I mean Lady Martell or Ser Lannister?”

Shaking your head slightly, you say, “I have not. Though I think I might know where to look for Lady Martell.”

John ditches his wine goblet behind a column before following you outside. You lead him to the large archery practice ring, and you find not one, but two figures out in the night, firing arrows by torchlight.

“John! Rose!” Lady Martell exclaims, dropping her bow and bouncing over to you. She tackle-hugs John first, and the other person in the area begins to make his way over to you.

“Glad you guys could make it,” Dave says, nodding at you when he gets within speaking distance. “My lady friend here was just laughing at my absurd lack of marksmanship. Apparently, I am, quote: ‘entirely hopeless, because Bec could shoot a longbow better than poor blind Dave Lannister,’ end quote.”

Huffing, Jade releases John and spins on Dave. “Oh hush, you know you could kick my arse with a sword! Don’t ruin this awesome reunion with your hyperbole.” She then turns away from him to embrace you. You sigh internally when you realize she’s taller than you. That means you’re the shortest one here.

Well, at least the new Queen is an inch or two below you.

You all chat amicably, and it seems no one notices your absence from the party, because no one comes looking for you. At least John’s dad and Dave’s older brother and Jade’s grandfather are all still there; you’re House Greyjoy’s lone representative. Hopefully Queen Feferi doesn’t see your lack of presence as a slight, though you think it would take a literal slap to the face for her to realize she’s supposed to be offended.

When it’s dark enough that a chill is setting in, you suggest moving your venue to the chambers you’ve been given. They chime in their approval, and you lead them back into the castle and to your rooms.

Already, you’ve managed to leave your things everywhere. Countless books—most pertaining to the Lord of Light—are scattered around your bedroom, and your squid-clad banner is leaning up against the wall next to your ostentatious canopy bed. Jade beelines for the plushy pillows, falling down into the cascade of soft fabrics. “Come on, there’s room for everyone!”

And that’s how the future Lords and Ladies of the respectable Houses Greyjoy, Martell, Arryn, and Lannister ended up sharing a bed on the most important night in recent history, talking late into the morning and drinking a bit too much wine. You fall asleep in heaps (John snores, Jade kicks, Dave sleeps like the dead), and you can’t remember ever feeling so warm.


	6. Shamu; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: AU where Feferi and Eridan are both trainers at Sea World.

“Some days, I think you love Shamu more than you love me,” you sulk as you close the gate to the tank after the killer whale. This iteration of Shamu just finished her umpteenth show, and she’s now going to get a much-deserved dinner and break.

Fef was the one tasked with doing this particular show, and as always, she did a spectacular job, interacting well with the crowd of tourists and the gargantuan sea mammal. You were one of the assistants, which isn’t what you usually do—you normally help with a sea lion pirate show, but today someone called in sick and the higher-ups decided Vriska could survive without you. You’re glad you didn’t fuck up your fiancée’s last performance of the week, but you aren’t exactly happy about the realization you had during the show.

“Oh, you’re right!” she exclaims as she falls into step with you, dramatically clutching at her chest. Your facial expression slides seamlessly into a pout; somehow, she thinks _you’re_ the only theatrical one in your duet. “I hoped you wouldn’t find out about our plans to elope to Greenland and live in a modest cottage by the sea.”

“Fef, you wouldn’t know ‘modest’ if it crawled into your hair and died,” you tell her, bumping her with your shoulder. She shoves you back, and you lose your footing and almost go careening into the tank. You would’ve fallen into the water with the orca if Fef didn’t immediately grab you and help you find your balance. “Wow, and now you just almost assassinated me. I’m really feeling the love today.”

“Shush,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “Let’s just finish up our shift, get out of these wetsuits, and we’ll go pet the dolphins. Sound good?”

You shrug slightly and she slides closer so she can lean her head on your shoulder. Another trainer from the other side of the tank wolf whistles at the pair of you as you walk inside. “We’ve gotta stop being handsy, we’re at work,” you mutter, disentangling yourself from her. You don’t quite know where your sour mood came from, but when Fef gives you a questioning look, you just head back to the men’s locker room to change.

Half an hour later, you’re off and walking with Fef through the park, taking the long was out. You’re holding her hand loosely, tightening only when screaming kids or parents chasing said screaming kids run by. “Wanna split a Dippin Dots?” she asks when you’re near the kids zone, slowing as you near the stand.

“Nah,” you say, then think another second before adding, “but if you want one, get one.”

She doesn’t stop, so you guess she’s just trying to cheer you up with the gesture. You don’t even know what’s bothering you; you just _get_ like this sometimes. “Hey, grumpy gills, why so mopey?” Fef asks, squeezing your hand. “You know I _really_ wouldn’t elope with Shamu. If anything, I would join a colony of emperor penguins.”

Begrudgingly, the corners of your mouth lift upward. Fef’s grin is brighter that yours by many watts, but you’re used to being a dull ember to her burning flame. “Come on, working at Sea World is supposed to be _fun_ ,” she says, trying to pull you towards Dolphin Cove. “What’s the point if we don’t get to pet dolphins once a week?”

You’re really not in the mood, so you try to compromise, “What about the stingrays?”

“Fine, fine!” She changes your path, pulling you in the right direction. Fef knows this park better than anyone else on the planet; you don’t think she could get lost if she genuinely tried. “But you _have_ to pet them, you can’t just watch.”

“But they’re slimy,” you protest.

Huffing, she shakes her head. “Eridan Primus Ampora, when we get to the exhibit, I expect you to apologize to _all_ of the stingrays for that outrageous insult.”

“We’ll be here all night if I have to do each one individually,” you say.

“Too bad!” she laughs, pulling you along faster.

Sometimes, you wonder if she regrets dropping out of veterinary school. You know you think about where you’d be if you stuck with your business degree all the time. But as you watch her lean over the side of the tank to dip her hands in the water, you know there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be. When she looks at you and says, “Come closer, dummy!” and you bend over to run your fingers along the backs of one of the many weird sea creatures in the vicinity, you hope that one of the reasons she loves it here so much is because she gets to be with you.


	7. Denny's; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Two people who never go to denny's, somehow both end up there around 3am.

  
It’s three o’clock in the morning.  
  
Your cell phone is dead.  
  
You have two dollars and sixty-nine cents in your pocket (all of which came from your cup holder, and there’s only one quarter in the bunch).  
  
Your car is almost a mile down the road, since you ran out of gas in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.  
  
And the only place you’ve seen with a light on is Denny’s.  
  
You’ve never been in a Denny’s—you drive an _Aston Martin_ , for Christ’s sake, and Denny’s is not the kind of place people like you go—but as a bolt of lightning makes you flinch and suddenly a torrent of cold, pouring rain falls from the maws of gaping clouds, you suppose Mother Nature is giving you a rather loud “fuck you!”  
  
Denny’s is your salvation. You really never thought you’d think that sentence, but if it saves your new vest, you’ll be magnanimous enough to try not to gag when you choke down a cup of coffee that you _desperately_ need.  
  
When you walk inside, there are five other patrons: one at the bar (you guess it’s a bar; you doubt they serve alcohol, but it’s built like one), and four teenagers in a booth that give off a “drunk” vibe from all the way across the diner. You don’t feel like sitting at a table all by yourself, so you find a stool at the bar, leaving an empty seat between you and the grungy guy that’s already sitting there. Upon closer inspection, he seems to be a little bit younger than you—probably still finishing up undergrad, if he’s not in a union or some other shit—and by the bags under his eyes, he’s had a rough couple of nights.  
  
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he snaps, and you blink, not realizing that you were staring.  
  
After awkwardly clearing your throat, you say, “That comment is so old, it’s not even clever anymore.”  
  
“Well sorry I didn’t have an insult so scathing that you’d end up in therapy at the front of my arsenal,” he huffs, and by the look on his face, he’s seriously considering banging his forehead onto the counter. “If you hadn’t already noticed, it’s three in the fucking morning, and we’re at _Denny’s_.”  
  
“What, do you not come here often?” you say, a bit bewildered. You weren’t expecting him to be so acerbic.  
  
“This is my first time, douchetruck,” he says, taking a sip of coffee. You lean over a bit to take a peek inside of his mug; it looks like he’s drinking it black. “I don’t really make a habit of coming to a depressing not-quite-restaurant too far off the highway to be economical.”  
  
You don’t quite know what to say. Instead of floundering with words, you lean across the counter, yelling, “Hello?” back to the kitchen. You haven’t seen a single employee yet.  
  
“God, they’ll be out in a minute,” the guy sighs, and you shoot him a glare. “Just sit your pretentious ass down and have a little _patience_.”  
  
“Easy for you to say,” you seethe, lowering your ass back onto the barstool, “you’re not stranded out here, a mile from your car, with no gas and no phone and a job interview to be at tomorrow morning in LA.”  
  
He seems slightly taken aback, but he doesn’t mutter an apology and turn away. “Who the fuck—over the age of twenty—goes to Denny’s in the middle of the night? The answer lies within you and me, dude: desperate assholes.” It annoys you how easily this guy can make you speechless. When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Whatever, I’m not going to go all ‘bless your heart’ on you, because despite our rural location, this isn’t the South. Just calm down, drink some coffee, and pull the bear trap out of your ass.”  
  
Five minutes later, when a server comes over and asks if you want anything, you order the biggest cup of coffee you can afford—your credit cards are tucked away in the suitcase, because you are phenomenally stupid and thought that would make them “safer” as you drove across the country—and snark at the guy next to you for a while. It really helps blow off steam, and it doesn’t occur to you until he’s walking out of the diner half an hour later that you should’ve asked to use his phone so you could call someone to tow you.


	8. MMOs; Aradia/Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sollux tries to get Aradia into MMO's and is surprised when she become a little bit addicted.

“AA?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me, I sort of wanted an _actual_ answer.”

She sighs heavily, eyes never leaving the computer screen. “ _What_ , Sollux?”

You almost snap _, ‘Not that kind of answer_ ,’ but when you think about it for a second, there’s not much else she could’ve said. Resisting the strong urge to grit your teeth, you cross your arms on the back of her desk chair, leaning over so your chin rests on the top of her head. “I think it’s time for an intervention.”

“Aww man, I didn’t think you knew about the heroin,” she says, entirely deadpan. “But it doesn’t matter now, I need to beat this boss. So stop distracting me.”

“AA, you’ve been playing Maplestory for thirteen hours straight,” you say quietly, trying so hard to be patient even though you kind of want to smack her upside the head. The inclination to do the violent act is just as strong as the opposing, _what the fuck is wrong with you, Captor?_ so you just move one of your arms so your hand can rest on her shoulder. “You need to stop. Have you even gotten up to pee?”

“I haven’t been drinking water, so I haven’t needed to.”

You huff. “Goddammit, you’re probably fucking dehydrated then. Aradia, get off the computer.”

“You’re the one who encouraged me to try out MMOs,” she reminds you while landing a critical hit on the boss she’s fighting.

“But not _Maplestory_ ,” you stress, letting your head hang. “It _sucks_.”

“Says the guy who’s been playing Runescape for eight years,” she counters.

It’s reached to point where half of you wants to scream, and the other half just wants to walk away. God, you never thought she’d like some dinky 2D free-to-play so much. You’re almost tempted to introduce her to something with better graphics and a compelling story, but then she’d probably die with her hands glued to the keyboard. Since you can’t think of anything else to say, you remind her, “ _Thirteen hours_ , AA. Aren’t your eyeballs fried?”

“Says the guy who has to wear glasses because he looked at the sun for too long,” she says in a sulky tone, which is better than the near-monotone she’d been speaking with before. Finally, she lands a final hit on the boss, and the thing keels over and disappears in a puff of smoke. It takes her a minute to save the game, but to your relief she boots down her computer and pushes back from the desk. When she gets up, she seems unprepared for the assault of pins and needles from not standing for so long, and you grab her arms, steadying her. As if broken from a trance, she looks up at you with a sheepish smile that melts your insides. “I _guess_ it was time for me to stop. Wanna go get Chinese food?”

“It’s 1am,” you tell her, both amused and exasperated.

Her brow furrows, and she questions, “Then what are you doing at my house?”

You can’t hold back a sigh this time. “I’ve been here for six hours, you said you wanted to get food but then you wouldn’t get off your damn computer.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, grabbing one of your hands. “I guess our options have been narrowed down to McDonald’s and Huddle House, then.”

“McDonald’s,” you choose, pulling your keys out of your pocket. “I could really use a McFlurry.”


	9. Kidnapped; Gamzee&Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: AU where Gamzee is a small child and Karkat accidentally kidnaps him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for neglect in this chapter.

“So where are we going, Mister?”

You swear to God you almost crash the fucking car. There is not supposed to be a voice in your backseat, holy shit, what the fuck was that?

Glancing in your rearview mirror and pulling off suddenly to the side of the road, you make fucking _eye contact_. You shouldn’t be able to do that, seeing as there isn’t supposed to be anyone else in your car, but _lo and fucking behold_ , there’s a kid—maybe five years old—with wild blond hair and eyes so light blue they’re almost white. For a second, you think he’s a ghost, but then you remember that Karkat Vantas, Idiot Extraordinaire, doesn’t believe in paranormal bullshit. You take a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly you feel like you’d be able to rip it from its position. “What are you doing in my car?”

The kid tilts his head to the side slowly, as if he’d just woken up from a long nap. He blinks lethargically at you before making a weird noise you think is a laugh. “Your door was unlocked and I wanted to lie down, so I climbed in.”

Holy shit, what a dumb kid. You resist the prominent urge to tell him what a fucktard he is and decide to ask, “When did you get in?”

He shrugs, unhelpful. You’re surprised there isn’t steam coming out of your ears by how ticked off you are. “ _Where_ did you get in?”

“The grocery store,” he tells you. “Momma was going in as you were putting stuff in your car, so I thought it would be nice if I could just go for a drive instead of waiting in _my_ car. It gets hot in there.”

God, leaving kids in the car in the heat of the South Carolina summer could _kill_ them. Since this kid is so scrappy, you don’t think it would take a whole lot of time left in a car to give him heatstroke. Plus, isn’t that sort of thing fucking _illegal_?

“She’s probably going to be freaking out about not being able to find you,” you say slowly, going for patient and coming off condescending. “We need to go back.”

“No. She probably didn’t even notice,” he tells you, not at all bitter. The statement is matter-of-fact, like he doesn’t care. Maybe he doesn’t understand that her not noticing her kid is missing would be fucking _neglect_ , and that plucks on your heartstrings harder than you’d like to admit.

Sighing, you pull back onto the road at the first opportunity to make a U-turn. When you make the ten-minute drive back to Publix, he points out his car—a new Mercedes, this kid’s family probably has a decent amount of cash—and you pull into an empty spot next to it. His mother is nowhere in sight. “Come on, kid, we’re gonna go find your mom.”

“Okay,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. You follow suit, and he automatically comes over to you and grabs your hand without even asking. It feels so small and fragile; you suddenly feel like you’re fucking Atlas holding up the weight of the world, even if you’re just holding some poor little kid’s hand.

“What’s your name?” you ask gruffly as you lead him into the store.

“Gamzee. Gamzee Makara,” he responds, words slow and purposeful.

“I’m Karkat,” you tell him, trying to be kind. “Nice to meet you.”

You glance down at him, and the biggest goddamn grin stretches out on his face. “Nice to meet you too, sir.”

Huffing a laugh, you say, “I’m not a fuc—I’m not a _sir_. I'm nineteen, for Christ's sake. Just ‘Karkat’ is fine. Now, tell me if you see your mom.”

Gamzee spots her in the frozen foods section a few minutes later and picks up the pace, though he doesn’t let go of your hand. “Momma!” he calls, and she whips around, jangling some of her copious gold jewelry.

“What the hell are you doing out of the car?” she snaps before she notices you, and then her face goes a bit pale.

You smile grimly. “Ma’am, are you aware that if you leave someone his age in the car, he could _die_?”

Belatedly, you think that might’ve scared the kid, so you look down to see his reaction. He’s just staring at the wall behind his mother, zoned out. You wonder if her doing that sort of thing in the past killed off too many of his brain cells.

“I’ve only been in here for ten minutes, and I’m about the leave,” she snaps, taking a few steps over and grabbing Gamzee’s other hand, yanking him out of your grasp. He doesn’t protest, going with her meekly.

Checking your watch, you correct, “Nah, you’ve been in here half an hour. He could’ve fried.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” she says, looking down her nose at you. It makes you feel small. “Now run along.”

You _do_ leave, waving at Gamzee as he smiles enthusiastically at you. Something cold and uncomfortable sits in your stomach as you head back to the parking lot, and if that lady’s kid weren’t right there, you would’ve ripped her a new one. Sighing, you tuck your hands in your pockets until you get to your car. Before you drive away, you take out your phone and make a note with their last name and the Mercedes’ license plate number. You don’t care about what you might get dragged into—there’s something _wrong_ , and you’re going to call the fucking police.


	10. Exploration; Aradia/Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: AU where Aradia is an adventurous archaeologist and Eridan is her nerdy historian side kick.

The hole he blasts in the side of the cave with his giant laser gun is barely big enough to fit you without having to crouch. Eridan, however, has to bend over to follow you, sticking close to your back as you move through the short tunnel to enter the hollow cave you knew was inside.

“It’s dark as shit in here,” he says, and even though you can’t see right now you hear him reach to scratch the back of his neck. It’s a nervous habit of his, and you much prefer it to chewing on the edge of his scarf. You’ve had quite a few arguments about how he’s seven sweeps now and doesn’t need to gnaw on his clothing, but the asshole denies doing it. He’s such an adamant liar sometimes.

“Of course it’s dark, I don’t have my flashlight out, dummy.” As you speak, you dig around in your backpack to find your light source. You make a small, pleased noise when you come across it, and you zip up your bag and flick the light on.

Suddenly, there is screeching and the flapping of wings echoing around the cave. You grin and shine your light on the bat-lusus colony fleeing to an area deeper in. Eridan shrieks, surprised, and you laugh at him as he yanks you back against the wall, making sure you’re both as far away as you can possibly be without retreating back outside. “Bet you would’ve liked to find this back when you had to feed Gl’bgolyb!” you say.

“I bet there’s shit all over the floor,” he complains, grabbing the wall for balance as he checks the underside of his pretentious, colorful shoes.

“It’s technically called _guano_ ,” you tell him, adjusting your hat. He knocked it off kilter when he grabbed you. Eridan gives you a look that conveys that he already knew that but didn’t care. “Now come on, we have _exploring_ to do!”

“Where’s the digging site?” he asks as he follows you.

You shrug, and he gives you a Look. He has a lot of Looks in his repertoire, because he’s an overdramatic twit that recycles memorable facial expressions for maximum effect. It makes you want to pap him on the cheek hard enough to sting, and since you’re his moirail and technically possess that privilege, you do so. “Ow!” he says, even though you barely hit him and you kept your hand on his face after because you know he likes that. Even as he scowls, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a second and only opening them once you remove your hand. “What was that for?”

“You gave me the ‘Crazy Fucking Lowblood’ look,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It’s rude.”

He shuffles his feet a little, slowing your pace. “Sorry,” he says, quietly and sheepishly. “I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” you sigh, taking his hand so he’ll hurry the hell up. “As for the digging site, I figured we’d just keep walking until we came across something cool.”

Huffing, he shifts a bit closer to your side; you initiated the contact, so he knows he has permission to be clingy now. The movement is hesitant, though, and that makes you want to throw him down in a pile and cuddle until he purrs. “There’s a severe lack of planning for this mission, Ara.”

“Well, you told me all we needed to know!” you remind him, squeezing his hand. “You told me the history of the area for the past thousand sweeps—and that’s a bit overkill, I’d say—and all the science-y stuff, so I’d say we’re well-prepared!”

“I’m so glad I told Kar where we were going so he’ll know where to find our bodies,” he deadpans, and you laugh. Wow, this kid is such a dweeb.

“Where’s your sense of _adventure_?” you question. “I didn’t think you’d be such a worry-wart, for all you’re a seasoned FLARP champion.”

“I FLARP in the _ocean_ , where I’m familiar with what my objective is and know where I have to go,” he says, tilting his chin up a little. “In here, I can barely fucking see, there could be anything hiding around corners or in the shadows, and if I fire the Crosshairs, I could cause a cave-in and kill us. I am _way_ out of my comfort zone, so let’s find your dumb rocks and get out, okay?”

 _My rocks aren’t dumb_ , you think but don’t say. “This place is _really_ important!” you say even though he already knows. If both of your assumptions are correct, you’re on your way to a long-buried cache of skeletons, made from lusii long extinct. “I promise that we’ll go back to your place and watch one of your stupid nautical movies later.”

“My movies aren’t stupid,” he sulks; he doesn’t have the level of self-control you do. “But fine, sounds good.”


	11. Beautiful Little Fools; Eridan/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Great Gatsby AU: Eridan as Gatsby and Roxy as Daisy.

“Run away with me, Roxy,” he implores, leaning forward with his hands clasped together in front of him. He looks open and earnest and firm, and you can’t help but remember him laughing and kissing you under the stars, years ago. Eridan always understood romance, much more than your current husband does, and now he has money and prestige and is more than just a poor, hopeful little boy in love.

But John is secure, and little Rosie is almost two years old. She is beautiful already, and hopefully she will only become more stunning with age. Though you’ve managed to dull your own mind with alcohol, you beg God that she will have little wit to siphon away, as the best thing she could grow up to be is a gorgeous fool, willing to be an obedient little trophy and be _happy_ that way. John loves you, you know, but that’s what you are to him—another bauble to put on display to show his success—and your awareness of your situation has made you bitter under your floozy mask.

What scares you more than anything is that if you leave him for Eridan, all your first love will do is put you on a pedestal and lock you in a display case, just as your husband has already done. _All rich men are the same,_ your common sense whispers; you desperately want it to be wrong.

But you still smile shakily, corners trembling as you hold your wine glass so tight you’re surprised it doesn’t snap. “I will.”

Then Eridan grins and he looks young again, instead of the dour, solemn figure he’s become. Sure, he puts on airs for this extravagant parties and laughs and entertains, but you saw through his façade immediately, because you’ve loved him from the start.

But when he ends up confronting John and trying to get you to tell your husband you don’t love him, you find that you can’t. While loving Eridan is passionate and alluring and even a bit scary, John is something familiar and warm. When you first met, he told such awful jokes to try to make you comfortable, and though he isn’t the sudden and zealous whirlwind of your youth, you have learned to love him. You know underneath his aloofness, he loves you, too.

So you do what you’re best at: you reach for the champagne and drink it straight from the bottle, gulping until nothing remains. Once you’re done, you slam it back down on the table and it breaks, large shards fragmenting and spreading all over the table. You are not cut, but everyone freezes, something tense and electric in the air.

“Fuck both of you,” you find yourself saying, mind locked in a nauseating fog, and you throw your arm over your eyes before either of them can see you cry.


	12. Fundraiser; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: High school AU where the boys' swim team have to walk around shirtless for a fundraiser or something and Feferi discovers that her best friend is actually kind of hot. Whoops.

This is one weird fundraiser.

The administration would flip its _shit_ if the girls’ swim team tried such a thing. But hey, at least you get eye candy as you go throughout your day, checking out guys in the halls and in your classes. Surprisingly, you haven’t seen Eridan all day—he’s the Captain, so you’d think he’d be strutting his stuff more than anyone, perhaps in a speedo. You know he used to be really self-conscious, but you thought he was over that.

When you do find him, it’s right before sixth period, which is the only class you share. He’s leaning against your locker, twiddling his thumbs and ignoring the people eyeing him up and down. Something strange wells up inside of you when you see a group of freshman girls staring at his abs and pointing and giggling, and it takes a moment for you to realize you feel jealous and territorial. But _why_?

Then he glances up to meet your gaze, and he gives you a small smile that you only ever see when he looks at you, and you’re hit with something that feels like butterflies.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Eridan topless before. You go swimming together all the time, whether it’s at the beach or in the pool. You swear there’s a picture from when you were two years old where you were both naked in a bathtub. Hell, you saw him in boxer-briefs last weekend, hair in disarray and sans glasses, incredibly sleepy as he half-heartedly snarked the movie you both stayed up until 3am watching. You are familiar with Eridan and his body.

But usually when Eridan doesn’t have a shirt on, there isn’t a whole lot to compare him to. You were aware he’s fit, but as you saw topless guy after topless guy until you finally got an eyeful of him, you become aware he probably has one of the nicest figures on the entire male swim team.

He was a skinny stick growing up, but when he started participating in sports and exercising regularly, he filled out, building up a layer of toned muscle. His skin started tanning instead of burning or breaking out into swaths of freckles (though the ones on his face have faded a bit over time, his shoulders and back are still splattered in them). You think he has to be flexing as he leans against the lockers because you don’t remember him being muscular; he gained muscle, sure, but it wasn’t well-defined when he was jumping over waves in the ocean, splashing water at you when you had your back turned.

It doesn’t take very long for him to notice how you’re staring. He grins, getting a glint in his eye. “You wanna do some laundry on my washboard abs?” he asks, and you immediately come to terms with him being hot. Yes, your best friend may be very attractive, but he’s still a total dweeb.

“That pickup line was so bad that I’m no longer turned on,” you tell him, shoving his shoulder so you can get into your locker to grab your AP Chem book.

He waggles his eyebrows, shooting you what you’re sure is his most stunning, winning smile. “You think I’m attractive, Miss Peixes?” he purrs. It’s an innocent question, laced with a joking undertone, but you see in his expression that he cares about the answer.

Rolling your eyes, you shut your locker and turn to face him, pretending not to feel the blush on your cheeks. “Of course I do, you big insecure baby. Now come on, we’re going to be late.”


	13. Redshirt; Equius/Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Star Trek AU where Eridan is captain and Equius is his chief engineer.

“God, I wish you’d been that good back at the Academy,” you purr, rolling from your stomach to your back so you can display yourself in your naked, post-sex glory. Equius doesn’t turn around, or even acknowledge your comment, so you just grin slimily and continue, “You were such a _virgin_ when we met, Eq, I’m surprised you knew a condom from a balloon.” You pretend to ruminate deeply for a moment before quipping, “I was shocked by your extensive knowledge of dildos, though.”

You wish you could see his face, because he’s probably blushing horribly right now. He picks his engineering shirt up and hangs it properly next to his pants; he doesn’t like the get his uniform crumpled or dirty. It had been a while since he hadn’t hung up his outfit before he fucked you, and you’re glad he finally broke his streak.

Not for the first time, you think of how much better he’d look in blue rather than red. Curse Starfleet and its damned color-coded uniforms; you know you’d look better in blue too, but no, you’re stuck in godawful command yellow. It takes a _lot_ for you to look bad in clothes, so of course it doesn’t make you look ugly, but there are better shades in existence for your skin tone.

It takes a few minutes for Eq to wash his face and return to bed. You showered beforehand, even though you usually do so after, but you were already tired as hell and knew you wouldn’t want to get up once you crawled into bed tonight. He lies down beside you, completely ignoring your seductive pose like a total dick, turning to face the wall with his back towards you. Pouting, you shimmy over to him, wrapping an arm around his chest and spooning. “You’re disappointing your Captain,” you murmur, lazily trailing a finger up and down his collarbone.

“ _Some_ people actually like to sleep at night,” he grumbles. It’s not often that he ignores you when you try to pull rank on him.

“I’m not saying you don’t get to sleep,” you say, chuckling breathily. “I’m saying you suck at cuddling, and I’m sick of being the big spoon. You’re almost half a foot taller than me, Eq, it’s about time you started acting like it.”

His shoulders move in a silent laugh as he turns over, engulfing you in his arms. You smile as you nuzzle into his chest, his arms tightening around you as you twine your legs with his. “Much better,” you sigh, and you fall asleep surrounded by warmth.

~

“I am _so done_ ,” you seethe, gripping the arms of your chair so tight your knuckles turn white, “with all of these fucking _Klingons_ thinking they can do fucking hit and runs and get away with it.”

“Well,” Kanaya says sensibly, poking a few things on her screen and bringing up the structural damage information, “I do believe they’ll be getting away with it, this particular time. We’re an engine and a generator down, though the warp cores do seem to be functioning correctly. It wouldn’t be wise to chase them now, as there’s a rather large fire near the propellant tanks and the hull was breached. It’s under control, but there were quite a few injuries and casualties.”

You make a noise in the back of your throat to acknowledge her words. Pulling a small tablet from your pocket, you message Eq while calling out a few orders to make sure nothing’s gotten out of hand. You’d still _really_ like to chase those alien fuckheads, but you can’t jeopardize your poor darling ship.

After five minutes and twenty messages, Equius still hasn’t answered you. There’s a lump of something cold and nauseating beginning to form in your stomach, so you decide to head down to the propellant tanks yourself to take a look.

“Vantas,” you say, eyes darting to him. You don’t even have to clarify; he just gives you a terse nod and gets up, heading over to your seat and already starting to bark out commands. You vacate it before he can sit on you and scurry off to the elevators.

The situation is well under control by the time you get there. You’re about to yell at someone to give you a fucking status report when a large hand lands on your shoulder. Relief wells inside of you as you turn around to face—

“Head to the medbay, brother,” he tells you, squeezing before letting his hand drop back down to his side. “He’s waitin’ on you.”

You don’t even get mad about him calling you “brother” instead of “captain” or “sir”. You just gulp and take off in the direction of the medbay at a sprint.

Equius is hooked up to a fuckload of machines making scary noises and spitting out more data than you can fathom. Your throat closes up at the sight of him, bandages around his chest already beginning to turn yellow and crimson as a doctor treats the burns on his arms. His scorched skin makes you ache with pity to look at, but they’re only second-degree, not life threatening in the least. It’s what is under the gauze and the blanket that scares you, because if he’s not conscious, it’s _bad_ —Eq stays awake for everything.

Dr. Harley tells you what’s wrong in a tone you’ve never heard directed towards you, all soft and hesitant. “He has surgery in twenty minutes,” she says as a conclusion, and you just swallow and nod, unable to take your eyes off him. He looks so much younger when he’s not awake, his expression slack and void of any tension or disapproval.

Jade must see something in your expression that plucks on her heartstrings, because she reaches out and hugs you. You don’t return the embrace, and by the time you muster the energy to, she’s pulling away. After a look that contains nothing but sympathy, she turns and walks away.

You’re a bad captain, because you don’t return to the bridge like you should—you sit with him, holding his hand. “You know,” you say, smiling shakily despite the fact he can’t hear you, “I always thought you’d look better in blue. Fuck red, damn it straight to hell.”

He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. Until they come to take him away in an attempt to fix him, you grasp his hand and pretend you’re not crying.

In about an hour, you find that he _is_ a true redshirt after all.


	14. Equius Horror Picture Show; Dave/Jade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Rocky Horror Picture Show AU. Dave and Jade come to the spooky mansion of a very... eccentric... troll. (I am not saying he built Equius in his basement, but... well.)

All you wanted was to use the damn phone.

You and Dave have been stripped, harassed, forced to witness multiple musical numbers, and subjected to an incredibly creepy cross-dressing scientist with too many disturbing fetishes to name. You kind of want to whip out the Glock you have hidden up your skirt and shoot your weird alien host just to shut him up, but Dave convinces you to humor the weirdo “for the lulz”. You know from the eerily straight face he keeps as he says this that he’s just as creeped out by all this as you are, and is more than ready to take out his sword and turn the sea dweller into sushi.

Violet-painted nails snap repeatedly in front of your face, and you jerk backward, swatting the hand away. Dr. Ampora snorts, placing the same on his hip as he cocks it. As always, you find yourself staring at his miles of fishnet-clad legs before you can look him in the eye. “As I w-was sayin’ before you zoned out,” he says, adding an irritated twist to his mouth, “w-what I’m about to show-w you is the _pinnacle_ of masculinity. He’s hunky, gorgeous, and has so much glorious _stamina_. Ladies and gentletrolls, I giv-ve you…” He pauses for dramatic effect, making his eyebrows wave in a fluid jolt you know humans aren’t capable of outside of cartoons, “Equius!”

The lights dim, and you guess there are mist machines off stage because the room starts getting foggy. Spotlights appear from out of nowhere, dancing on the walls until they land on the strange box at the center of it all. To the gasps and murmurs of the onlookers that _aren’t_ you and Dave, a large figure rises. Dr. Ampora rushes forward to help the creature stand, and then suddenly the spotlights and fog are gone, and everything returns to normal so Eridan can get a proper eyeful of his creation.

“Oh god, he’s _perfect_!” he gushes, reaching forward to run his hands along the science project’s abs, which are (admittedly) sculpted to perfection. “Equius, dear, say hello!”

Equius—who appears to be modeled after Eridan’s species, since he also has gray skin, black hair, and candy corn horns—simply grunts, looking at Dr. Ampora through narrowed eyes. You exchange a look with Dave, and he quirks an eyebrow, standing up a bit straighter and flexing. “W-well, w-what do you think?” Eridan asks. It takes a moment for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Turning to the scientist, you quip, “He’s a bit too muscly for my tastes.”

His nostrils flare as he scowls. “It’s a good thing I didn’t make him for you, then! I bet your parts aren’t ev-ven compatible with ours, anyw-way!”

He lifts the front of his skirt and— _oh my god is that a tentacle dick?_

Dave promptly faints into your waiting arms. You know he probably just did it for the dramatic effect, the dork, but as you lower him to the ground, you can’t help but wonder if that’s what Frankenstein’s Monster is _also_ packing.

You don’t get to think about that for long, though, because the crazy scientist launches into another musical number. God, these people are fucking nuts.


	15. Never Act in the Porn Industry; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: AU in which Eridan and Karkat are porn stars and can't stop laughing while reading their next script.
> 
> (I'd say this one's rated M.)

  
It dawns on you and Kar simultaneously, you think, what complete and utter shit this script is. The only thing it has going for it is that you’re not in a six inch long skirt (and nothing else); you’ve done that scenario one too many times. You know Kar was relieved earlier that he was doing a shoot with you instead of a bad model of an Imperial Drone like his last porno, but you think he may be having second thoughts now.  
  
Clearing his throat, he holds up a hand so you don’t say what egregious quip popped into your head. “So instead of sitting here and reading this thing awkwardly and silently, let’s have a little fun. Read me your ‘favorite’ lines as you come across them, and I’ll read you mine.”  
  
“Kar, I don’t think there’s anything in this piece of shit that could qualify as a favorite,” you tell him, thumbing through the ten pages of horrible dialogue and cringe-worthy stage directions.  
  
“That’s why I used air quotes,” he says. “Let us begin.” He turns on his big doe eyes immediately, looking entirely innocent and pushing his lower lip out into pout as he glances down to read his line. “Oh, dearest, the ravishingness of your stature is making my bulge coil like a slinky.”  
  
“Fucking hell,” you say before you can stop yourself, eyes wide. Karkat guffaws, throwing his head back and laughing unrestrainedly. You’ve never seen him do such a thing, and it makes you want to laugh along with him. “Hold on, let me find one.” You skim through the script until you find a full paragraph that makes you fuckin _giggle_. “My dearest diddliest darling, I find you raunchy and riveting and recalcitrant. Please, for the love of Gog, dominate my derelict dick before I leak genetic material all over this concupiscent platform. I am a meek mewbeast, magnificent and majestic, ready for you to ravish.”  
  
By the end, you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, and not because it’s particularly funny—holy shit, you’re going to have to _act this out_. You’re not getting paid enough for this shit.  
  
“I’m gonna smother you in my tittays,” Kar bursts out, thrusting his flat chest forward.  
  
As you continue reading, you snort. “God, my character as an alliteration fetish. Ahem,” you prepare to read, “Fantastic flammable flirty fluffer-nutter, I will fuck you so firmly your fists will slit the flimsy sheets.”  
  
“It’s a good thing I have flood insurance, because you’re gonna cum so much we’ll be swimming in it.”  
  
“I’m going to caress your rumple spheres until you purr hard enough to power a starship, baby,” you growl seductively, lying across his lap.   
  
Kar reaches down to cup your cheek, leaning to whisper in your ear, “Bow chicka wow wow.”  
  
You snort when you see the line of italics near the end. “It tells me to ‘mount him like a proud stallion you’re about to ride into victory to the sound of a crowd of horny trolls ejaculating’. God, did Equius Zahhak write this?”  
  
When filming starts, you both have your scripts memorized—you’re quality actors, after all. But when the director calls, “Action!” and you and Kar turn to look at each other, dressed in the ridiculous Ariel and Flounder costumes you’re supposed to take off almost immediately, you and Kar break out into peals of roaring laughter.


	16. My Name Is Cronus; Cronus&Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cronus realizes what a scumbag he's been for years and with the help of his brother and a newfound belief in karma tries to right some of the wrongs he's caused in his life. (It's a My Name Is Earl AU, basically. I don't know what I'm doing.)

“So what poor, unfortunate soul do we want to help today, old sport?” you ask, pulling the list out of your pocket and unfolding it.

Snatching it out of your hand, Eridan bites, “ _Me_. God, Cro, I almost prefer ‘chief’ to ‘old sport’. You’re not fucking Gatsby.”

“I’m a changed man,” you say, running your thumbs along the underside of your suspenders before letting them snap back to your chest. You little brother gives you one of his famous Looks—raised eyebrow, disgusted curve of his lips, hand on his hip—and suddenly you’re reminded that these are _his_ suspenders and he’s asked you _multiple times_ not to stretch them out. Sheepishly, you let your hands hang at your sides. “Anyway, I was thinking that today, since we’re in the tri-state area, we should head to Kankri’s place and see how he’s—”

Eridan lets out a harsh sigh, lifting a hand to cut you off. “What the fuck did I say about ‘helping’ Vantas, back when we first started this thing?”

Scowling, you kick a pebble just to be petulant. “That I can’t violate my restraining order.”

“That’s right,” he says condescendingly. “Dad won’t bail you out of jail again, and I’m certainly not going near a prison with a ten foot pole. Do you know what they _do_ to guys like me?”

You take in his pretentious boat shoes, striped pants, scarf (in the middle of _April_ ), over-gelled hairdo, slim stature, and hipster glasses. As he crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot, waiting impatiently for an answer, an unexpected wave of protectiveness washes over you. When you were younger—as to say, about three months ago—despite growing up with the kid, you didn’t love him. He was just sort of _there_ , but now you can’t imagine him anywhere else but by your side. “No one’s gonna fuckin touch you,” you say gruffly.

“Oh my God, they say _I’m_ dramatic,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Finally, he looks at your list, skimming. At one point, his eyes narrow, and he snaps, “What the fuck does ‘didn’t pay that prostitute in Vegas’ mean?”

Letting your head hang, you mutter, “What the hell do you _think_ it means? It’s stated pretty plainly.”

“Fuck, you’re a douchebag,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. You think he’d look better without them—like you do—but unlike you, he can’t wear contacts because they irritate his eyes. “Okay, so today, we’re doing number thirty-nine: flipped a guy’s hot dog stand near Central Park for shits and giggles. New York is only half an hour from here, so maybe we’ll have time to do two, if there are more in the city. I’m in the mood to drive, so give me your keys.”

You toss them to him, thinking that you never would’ve let him _touch_ your car, when you were younger. Even though you only started doing this list thing three months ago, you think you know so much more about Eridan now. Before, you thought he was a stuck-up brat who only went to art school because it was the most expensive option. Now, you think he has a good heart underneath all the pomp and hostility; he wouldn’t have dropped everything to come with you when you asked him to help with your reformation if he was the selfish bastard you thought he was. There are still a lot of things on your paper list, but you’re glad you can check _get to know Eridan better_ off the one in your head.

“Alright, _chief_ ,” you say a bit mockingly as you head outside, “let’s hit the road.”


	17. Don't Sweat It; Equius/Nepeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: AU in which Nepeta is the sweaty one. Equius keeps the same towel supply because his moirail is gross and SOMEONE has to keep her from sweating on literally everything.

Sometimes, you don’t know when she comes to visit until you walk into your respiteblock and she’s in your recuperacoon. It’s like she doesn’t want to wait for Arthour to let her in—she has some way to get in your hive that you didn’t know existed (she hasn’t told you what it is, and that irks you to no end; you thought your hive was impervious to break-ins but she gets in regardless). It gives you a jolt when you flick on a light in your food preparation block and your bloodpusher stops momentarily, because there she is, sitting on your countertop and cleaning her nails with the tip of one of her long hunting claws.

But today is different, because it’s humid and the heat index is over a hundred degrees. She still breaks into your hive; however, there’s a trail of water leading to your basement. Knowing Nepeta as well as you do, you know it’s sweat.

Sighing, you go to your linen closet to fetch a towel. You have a lot of them—your moirail is quite the perspirator, and as you grab two fresh ones, you think about how much sweat there was in your hallway and grab an aerosol can of freshener before heading to find her.

She’s lying down in your robot fighting ring, taking a cat nap and using her long, dirty coat as a pillow. Her clothes are drenched in sweat, and there’s a decent-sized puddle of liquid surrounding her. Your nose crinkles at the smell, and you think it’s a testament to how much you care for her that you climb into the ring, treading carefully as to avoid stepping on her tail or waking her, and start mopping up the puddle. The towel is soaked by the time you’re done, and you carefully lay it outside of the ring, making sure it doesn’t squelch unpleasantly upon hitting the concrete floor.

Turning back to Nepeta, a warm feeling curls in your chest, and you almost smile. For all of the extra stress she puts you through on occasion, you have not once regretted quadranting her. She has been a comfort and a guide to you, and even if you’re not the most affectionate of moirails, you truly hope she knows how much she means to you.

You unfold the other, dry towel and sit down next to her, draping it over her. Like the huntress she is, she wakes immediately—oh fiddlesticks you should’ve anticipated that, now you feel bad for disturbing her slumber—but she relaxes once her eyes focus on you. Reaching out your hand towards her face, she gets what you’re offering and lifts her head, lying her cheek on your palm and rumbling out a low purr. You doubt she’ll go back to sleep, and the hard floor of your fighting arena certainly isn’t a good place for piling, but you feel content all the same.


	18. Holy Dollar Signs, Batman!; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Eridan and Karkat are a superhero and sidekick duo. Eridan is the exceptionally shitty but high-powered superhero and Karkat is the sidekick who is perpetually saving the day from both the bad guys and his idiot hero.

As Eridan and the Villain of the Day punch and claw and pull each other’s hair, you head over to the asshole’s (the evil asshole, not the hero asshole) duffel bag and unzip it, unveiling the goods. There’s so much money in the bag that you feel like you’re in one of those old cartoons where the character sees wads of cash and dollar signs replace the pupils in their eyes. It takes a minute, but you eventually remind yourself that you also need to be paying attention to the fight going on behind you, instead of just the mountain of money. You hear the _whoosh_ of Eridan’s cape as he flies upward and dives back down, his foot connecting with something that makes a sickening _crack_ (God, if he missed the guy in the trench coat and that was the sound of one of his own bones snapping, you’re going to be _pissed_ ; that would be the third time this year, and if it weren’t for his fast-healing ability, he’d still be on crutches).

You look over your shoulder to see that they’re still throwing punches, but the villain’s jaw looks really skewed in a way it definitely hadn’t been earlier. It’s dislocated, probably even cracked. You know your pretentious hero—that dresses like an evil mastermind—has steel-toed boots.

It hurts to look away from their battle after the guy lands a punch to Eridan’s gut, causing him to double over, but you need to find this guy’s phone. You dig around and when you _do_ find it, you pull a device out of your pocket that fries a certain section of the iPhone so you don’t need the passcode. Smirking, you dump all of his evil contact information into your cloud account, where you can easily access it later, and text the person waiting for him downstairs, _I’ll be down in just a minute, the heist going great_. As you lock the phone and slip it into your pocket to hand over to the police later, you think Eridan wouldn’t last a night fighting crime without you, even if he has the shiny superpowers in your duo. He can have the flashy fights; you do the important stuff.

He hasn’t brought out his giant OP gun yet, which means he’s feeling pretty cocky about how this is going to end. You make sure the bag of money is well out of the way before you approach the fight, ready to try and trip the dude so Eridan can land a final blow. He isn’t using his powers much tonight, since you’re on a roof in the middle of the city and not anywhere near water or bright lights he can abuse, but he jumps higher with his flight ability and lands punches with a bit of super strength. Sometimes, you feel like you should bring popcorn to these fights, because Eridan doesn’t like you interfering; it messes with his style, or something. But damn, even if you don’t get your adrenaline pumping, they can be entertaining as hell.

Finally, it seems like the brawl is about to draw to a close. Eridan lands a punch to the asshole’s already fucked up jaw, and that’s it. The villain goes over the side of the building, and you hear Eridan make a noise of triumph, but then he’s getting yanked off-balance and falls—

But you lunge at him, grabbing the edge of his cape in one hand and his flailing arm in the other. For a second, you think you didn’t pull back hard enough to counter and you’re both going to be smears of blood on the pavement below, but then you stumble backwards, falling on your asses on the roof. Eridan’s right foot is dangling thirteen stories above the ground.

You hear a scream as Mr. Trench Coat hits the ground. A jolt goes down your spine when you realize you almost joined him.

Eridan lets loose a sigh of relief that you feel to your very bones. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you find that you still haven’t let go of him. He seems to notice too, but instead of yanking away, he turns to look at you. “Thanks, Kar, you’re a lifesaver.” Your heart does a little flip when he unleashes a goofy grin, because he rarely _smiles_ let alone _grins like an idiot_. “Literally. This is me swooning.” He bats his eyelashes at you—they’re so _long_ , and the eyeliner he’s wearing really accents what gorgeous blue eyes he has—and you laugh shortly, releasing his cape to smack him on the shoulder.

“It was nothing.”

 _He flirts with everyone_ , you tell yourself as he gets up and sets off, twitching his shoulders to make his dumb cape billow out behind him like an untied sail. _Him turning on the charm doesn’t mean he likes you._ Swallowing, you follow him, cursing your dumb schoolboy crush and his own damn incompetence.


	19. Death Be Not Proud; Aradia/Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Humanstuck AU where Aradia Megido sees the dead (but not hear them), and Sollux Captor can hear the voices of the dead (but not see them). They team up and form their own freelance business where they try to help the deceased move on. (Bonus points if they run into a ghost who is also an old friend.)

As you watch Sollux pull his beater car onto the curb in front of your apartment building, you regret that he caught you before you could spray paint your special Paranormal Investigators symbol on the passenger side door over a spot of rust. You liked the design you came up with, and you really wanted to see what it looked like on his car, but he took your can of paint before you could try it out. You remind him often that his grumpiness ruins your fun, and he snarks back that _someone_ has to reign in your craziness.

Technically, you’re both a little nuts—seeing/hearing the dead doesn’t exactly show up on the normalcy spectrum. Despite people thinking you’re not exactly sane, your little business has started creating a half-decent income for the two of you. People come to you with worries of paranormal interference, some with evidence and some without, and you go check it out. You rarely deal with malevolent spirits; most of the ones you come into contact with are newly dead, and afraid or bitter or angry or depressed. You and Sollux help in whatever ways you can, and most of the time this entails sending them Beyond. You don’t know what happens when ghosts fade. You don’t know if they go on to the afterlife or continue a cycle of reincarnation or cease to exist entirely. The only thing you can do is hope it’s better than remaining a specter on an Earth that’s no longer touchable to them.

You try to smile at Sollux as you slide into the car, leaning across the center console to kiss him on the cheek. He doesn’t react, face set into stone, and his eyes are bloodshot, probably from a combination of sleep deprivation and crying. It makes displeasure and sympathy curl together in the pit of your stomach. “It’ll be okay,” you say quietly, placing your hand over his on the steering wheel. “We’ll help him.”

“I never thought we’d have to do this for someone we _knew_ , AA,” he says, voice cracking.

“I hoped we’d never have to,” you admit, settling into your seat and buckling up. You plaster on a smile for him as he takes the car out of park and sets off towards the townhouse a good ten miles away that three of your friends used to live in. Now there are only two.

Sollux can’t go inside immediately when you pull into the parking lot, so you wait a few minutes. He tries to control his breathing, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap as he stares at nothing, and you rub his shoulder, letting him know you’re there if he wants to talk before going inside. Finally, he sighs, opening the car door and getting out. “Let’s get this over with.”

It takes an eternity to walk to the front door. You ring the doorbell, and for the first time, you’re worried about seeing the spirit. You’ve always been able to handle the distressed, sometimes even violent emotions of the ghosts you’ve come into contact with. But this is going to be different, because as Sollux was lamenting earlier, you’d never dealt with someone who was your _friend_.

And more specifically, you don’t know what to expect from the ghost of Karkat Vantas.

Eridan opens the door. For the first time in history, his hair isn’t carefully gelled into place—it’s slightly damp, like he showered this morning, but the lack of goopy product almost makes it look soft. The dyed-blond streak that shoots backwards from his widow’s peak is showing brown roots. His glasses are slightly skewed, like he’d been rubbing at his face and forgot to straighten them, and the bags under his eyes reveal his lack of sleep. For once, he doesn’t scowl and snark at Sollux. He even looks the tiniest bit relieved. “Hey,” he says monotonously, stepping aside to let you in. “Glad you could come.”

“Of course we came,” you say quietly, stepping inside. Sollux reaches for your hand before he can step over the threshold, and you twine your fingers together. Despite the slight tremor of his hand, his grip is steady. “Do you _think_ he’s here, or do you have proof?”

“I…” He swallows once, scratching at the back of his neck. “Magnets on the fridge keep moving around, I think he’s just trying to fuck with us. Well, just me, actually—Gamzee doesn’t leave his room except to piss. I don’t even think he’s showered since the funeral.”

You’ve seen how grief weaves its way into people’s lives, either sitting on their shoulders to weigh them down or wrapping around their throats in an attempt to choke them. Death pierces the hearts of many, leaving behind a barb that dulls over time from being pushed against so much, but is always nailed into a person in such a way it can never be removed. You thought you’d seen sorrow so many times that you’d be prepared for it when death came for someone you loved.

When Kanaya called you crying, barely able to choke out that Karkat had been killed driving home from his crappy part-time job at Jamba Juice, you realized that even though you thought you’d immunized yourself to grief, it still attempted to suffocate you.

And as you see a faded, muted version of your friend sitting on the couch and watching a horrible soap opera, you feel like you got punched in the throat. You walk over to him, ignoring Eridan’s quiet, hysterical rambling in order to sit down next to your dead friend on the couch.

He looks up to meet your gaze, and he doesn’t look surprised to see you. “Hi, Karkat!” you say as cheerily as you can manage.

His mouth moves, but you can’t hear the words. Luckily, Sollux and Eridan followed you over, and you hear your boyfriend say, “He said he was expecting us to show up sooner or later.”

You’re completely floored by what happens next. You open your mouth, ready to make a joking quip to lighten the mood, but instead a sob comes out. Automatically, you raise your hand and bite your knuckle, telling yourself that you haven’t cried in three years and you will _not_ break your streak, but then Sollux is about to sit down next to you so he can offer comfort and you have to shove him back. He stumbles, surprised. “Other side,” you tell him. You’ve never heard yourself sound so broken. “You almost sat on Karkat.”

For some reason, this makes him laugh. Then Eridan joins him, and you can’t help but giggle helplessly along with them. Karkat looks at you like you’re all crazy, but you see the fondness and regret in his eyes, and you wish desperately that he weren’t untouchable so you could hug him.

It takes hours of talking and coaxing to get him to leave. He’s amiable and lighthearted at first—more than he was when he was alive, so you and Sollux and Eridan all know it’s only for your sakes—but eventually he dissolves in the way they all do, succumbing to fear and anger and resentment. You try your hardest to get him to let go, but he might as well be gripping the couch with all his might. It only changes when Gamzee comes out of his room.

With Sollux as a translator of sorts, they talk and laugh and get some closure, and within ten minutes, he’s moved on.

Usually, getting a spirit to go Beyond feels triumphant. If they remained on Earth, they’d only be hurt, watching loved ones go about their lives and time flowing around them, while they remained isolated from all they knew. Helping ghosts is what helps keep you upbeat, because you know you’re doing something good.

But when you realize the couch is empty to your right and you will never see Karkat again, you only feel hollow.


	20. Shoujo Clone; Eridan/Eridan/Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: In a world where everything turned into Eridan, what will happen when Eridan falls for Eridan? And what will Eridan do when Eridan confesses his crush on Eridan to him, when he in fact harbours tender feelings for Eridan as well?

Your life is so fucked up.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your couch, head in your hands. God, you’re such an _idiot_! How could you tell Eridan about your crush on him? Don’t you know the rules? Well, here’s a refresher: Rule Number One of Loving People, never tell them you’re into them, remain aloof and mysterious and let _them_ come to _you_.

But you’d fucked it up, just because he looked so _hot_ in his new scarf. You just couldn’t resist making a quadrant insinuation. Eridan is a troll that knows how to dress, and that’s what made you talk to him in the first place.

Unintentionally, that thought also brings your other friend Eridan to mind. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit attracted to him—he’s a handsome guy! You can’t imagine anyone _not_ being enticed by Eridan. He’s quite the catch. But as you sit in the dark and think, you realize that Eridan is probably likelier to date you than Eridan, even though you just confessed to him like a total moron.

Your phone vibrates, and instead of looking at the text, you turn it off. You don’t have the energy to deal with anyone right now, even Eridan.

Moping is easy for you. Your couch is your designated area of woe, and you let yourself curl up into a ball and lie down, pouting even though there isn’t anyone around to see your wobbly lip. As you sulk, you trace your finger along patterns in the fabric of your couch, trying not to think about Eridan or Eridan.

Not even ten minutes later, you hear a knock at the door. You sigh, not wanting to answer it—you’re in old yoga pants and a tank top, not your most attractive outfit. You’re not used to letting people see you when you’re not draped in royal finery, but you guess whoever’s at the door is going to have to deal with not seeing you in peak condition.

To your surprise, Eridan is standing on your doorstep. You nearly yelp when you see him, blushing to the tips of your fins. Oh _God_ , he knows you like him now! What are you supposed to say?!

“H-hi, Eri,” you choke out, folding your hands behind your back so your posture looks immaculate. “W-what brings you here?”

“I need to talk to you,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “and I didn’t w-want to w-wait. Show-w me to your couch.”

Ugh, he didn’t even ask if he was allowed to come inside—that’s so _like_ him. “Fine,” you say stiffly, stepping aside to let him in.

His awkward smile makes your bloodpusher melt. It feels like there are stingrays swimming around in your stomach, but you figure you can have a decent conversation with this guy.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re making out on your couch. Eridan’s such a good kisser, knowing exactly how to use his tongue and move his hands—

“W-what’s all this?!”

You break apart, falling on your ass onto the floor. Standing behind the couch is Eridan, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

“Eridan!” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet and brushing yourself off. “How-w’d you get in?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, eyeing Eridan as he stands up next to you. “Eridan, you told me you w-weren’t w-with him!”

“Because w-when you asked, I w-wasn’t!” you defend yourself, a lump forming in your throat. “I’m sorry—”

“I don’t care that you’re sorry!” he rages, huffing. “You’v-ve been leading me on for _sw-weeps_. How-w could you do this to me?”

Turning on his heel, Eridan storms out of your hive. You swallow and turn to face Eridan. “Look, Eridan—”

“Hav-ve you been trying to take someone else red on the side?” he demands, indignant. “I thought you said you liked me!”

“I do!” you say, lips wobbling. He starts for the door, and you reach forward to grab his sleeve. “Eridan, _please_ just hear me out!”

He rips out of your grip and leaves you standing there in the middle of your living room. As you sink to the floor, trying and failing to hold back tears, you think Eridan is a complete douchebag.


End file.
